Moontalia
by Rainbow Volcano
Summary: Feliciano Vargas is a dying man. But before he can kick the bucket, he has a specific wish. He calls on scientists Dr. Alfred Jones and Dr. Arthur Kirkland, who work for an agency specializing in granting wishes. As they attempt to complete Feliciano's request, they slowly learn the key to everything: Louise Beilschmidt Vargas, his deceased, German wife. Fem!GermanyxItaly USUK
1. Between a Squirrel and a Tree

**Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** Hey, everyone! Rainbow here with my next big story. And so quickly after the last one, too! Am I sick? Probably! Is that the point? Not in the slightest!

This story is heavily based on To the Moon, a PC "game" that can be found on Steam. The game is really more of an interactive novel, but boy is it well-written. I was playing with my friend the other day and thought "You know, Eva and Neil are a lot like Alfred and Arthur..." and thus, this fic was born. To the Moon has such a beautiful atmosphere that I tried to capture in my writing. I _highly_ recommend that everyone play the game for themselves, or at least get the soundtrack/listen to it as you read.

This story is also going to be incredibly long. Well, compared to the rest of the work I've done. If I do the story justice, it will easily overtake The Freedom Phantom in length, which I suppose is great for those of you out there who are tired of reading short little one-shots from me. I also cannot promise a regular update schedule. My life is about to get very busy. But I can promise I'll update as often as possible, because I absolutely love this story. I hope you guys will grow to love it too.

* * *

Chapter 1: Between a Squirrel and a Tree

The old man was dying. He was trying hard not to because he couldn't die yet. But he was dying nonetheless.

He was hanging on to the thread of life as hard as he could, but his sweaty and weary palm was slipping. At the foot of the hill, winding through the mountain roads, sped a large van sporting the logo for Sig Corp and housing two of its employees. They had to reach him before he breathed his last breath, before his heart beat its last, and before his hand released its grip.

The gentle sound of soft piano notes danced through the air. The moon, full and illuminant, shined on the country home and the hill it overlooked. The old man lied in his bed, rasping and shuddering with each labored gulp of air while his loving caretaker and his petulant doctor attended to him.

 _Screeeeeeeeech…!_ **CRASH!**

The sound brought an abrupt halt to the piano notes, as its two young players jumped in fear and curiosity. Peter and Winona shared a bewildered look before deciding that the sound must've been some kind of animal. They continued their playing, blissfully oblivious to the tragedy looming over their heads.

* * *

The two employees stood at the sight of their smoking van. Their once pristine lab coats were now a bit smudged, but otherwise they were unharmed. The same could not be said for the deceased squirrel on the road.

"Where were you looking, Alfred!?" Arthur demanded. He was a feisty though proper immigrant from England who transferred to the American branch of Sig Corp almost 5 years ago. His once shimmering emerald eyes were now dimmer and clouded by emotional wear and one too many all-nighters. His pale-blonde hair was permanently disheveled, much to his dismay. He crossed his arms and looked to his partner.

"Well excuse me for heroically evading that squirrel coming out of nowhere!" Alfred retorted. Like Arthur, his eyes that once seemed infinite and bright as the summer sky seemed now more like a summer storm. A peculiar lock of his hair stood straight up, and bobbed with his head whenever he emoted. Which was frequently. His glasses sat slightly askew on his face from the crash.

"…You ran over it anyways," Arthur deadpanned.

"…Oh."

Arthur slapped a hand to his face. "You ran over it and hit a tree."

Alfred sheepishly rubbed his neck. "Look, don't worry, it's a company car," he reasoned, trying to lessen the damage he'd done.

"Are you joking? The boss is going to kill us!" Arthur shouted, looking once again at the wrecked van. Alfred put a hand to his chin in thought.

"Hm. . . We'll just say I was saving a puppy. He likes puppies, right?"

"He's more of a cat person. Not like that would actually help anything!"

Alfred let out an exaggerated sigh. ". . . Why does the world have to be so complicated? Fine, whatever furball he fancies. Crisis averted."

"Go write that on your report later. Let's get the equipment from the car and move already," Arthur said, pushing them towards the task at hand. He knew that despite their predicament, their crashed car would simply have to wait. Someone's life was on the line. Alfred opened the trunk of the car and pulled out an enormous toolbox.

Arthur walked over to the dead squirrel, hoping that maybe it still had a chance. Upon further inspection, the poor creature was completely smashed. At least it had a swift death.

"Tsk, tsk," Arthur scolded sadly.

"Aw c'mon, I crashed the car while trying to evade it! What more do you want?!" Alfred complained, readjusting the awkwardly large toolbox on his chest.

"Not crash the car and evade it?"

". . . That's asking too much."

Arthur allowed a small amused smile at his partner's words. The pair walked a few feet to find a wooden sign with the words "Vargas Home" carefully painted on it.

"Putting up a sign when they live in the middle of nowhere is like asking to be robbed," Alfred commented. Arthur shrugged.

"Perhaps they're simply very trusting people. Our client has been known for his cheerful attitude throughout his life," he reasoned before ushering for Alfred to move along. With their car out of commission, it was going to be a long walk.

* * *

By the time they reached the home of their client, it was nearly an hour later. Despite the wild weeds and flowers that grew all around, the exterior and the two flowerbeds on either side of the front door were well-kept. The sound of crashing waves could be heard in the distance, as well as a simple piano melody. Arthur knocked on the door. The piano notes came to an abrupt halt once more.

"Not a bad place to retire, hm?" Arthur asked, looking up at the quaint windows and intriguing architectural shape.

"I could do better," Alfred responded with a bit of a shrug. While he was very strong, the equipment was starting to wear on him. He put the toolbox down on the ground and stretched out his arms.

"Pfft. Not with your salary," Arthur teased, knowing full well that they both earned the same amount. Alfred gave a tiny sheepish smile.

"Nightshifts; love 'em or hate 'em?"

"You know the answer, you stupid owl."

" . . . It's probably gonna be another all-nighter, y'know," Alfred admitted softly.

"I know," Arthur replied tiredly.

"And I doubt they'd have any of the tea you like . . . "

"Shut up."

". . . And the ocean waves will sing lullabies . . . "

"Not through your blathering, they won't."

"And your eyelids will—" But before Alfred could finish his teasing, the door opened. Arthur glanced back at him snidely before entering. Alfred huffed before going in after him.

"Don't forget the equipment, moron," Arthur reminded. Alfred sighed and turned around. He picked up the 200-ton box with a grunt.

"I don't get paid enough for this."

* * *

"Dr. Arthur Kirkland and Dr. Alfred Jones, I presume?" asked a woman with long brown hair. In her long-gone days of youth, her hair was perky and smooth, but it lately had descended into a tangled mop on her head.

The pair in question nodded. Alfred set down the bulky toolbox and rolled out a kink in his shoulder. They took the moment to observe the inside of the house. There was a grand piano in the foyer, with a dining room table off to the left and a fireplace to the right. A grandfather clock stood next to a flight of stairs, unticking.

"I take it then that you are Eliza?" Arthur asked. The woman nodded.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"That's okay, I tend to be bad at predicting deaths as well," Alfred stated, hinting that 'coming on short notice' was pretty par for the course for Sig Corp employees. Arthur glared at his insensitive comment.

"Are you the patient's daughter?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, no. I'm just his caretaker," she answered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. From behind a large vase appeared two children, both with uncannily bushy eyebrows. They surveyed the two lab-coated men before scampering off to another room.

"…And those were my children, Winona and Peter," Eliza noted, acknowledging their unhospitable behavior subtly. "It's not exactly a nine-to-five job, so Feli lets us live here."

"I suppose this 'Feli' is our man?" Arthur asked.

" . . . 'Feli'? Listen, if it's a kid we're dealing with, I don't think we're the ones you want," Alfred explained with a bit of caution. Eliza shook her head.

"No, no. He just prefers to be called that. His full name is Feliciano. He's upstairs right now with his medical doctor." She glanced up the flight of stairs with a pang of worry. "Come with me." She began walking upstairs, not waiting to see if Alfred and Arthur were following her.

"Come on, grab the case and let's go."

"…When my back breaks one day, I'll sue you with the insurance claim," Alfred threatened under his breath. He bent down and hoisted up the toolbox, nestling it in his arms. "Alright, let's head upstairs before I drop this on my foot." The two lumbered upstairs, Arthur pretending he wasn't worried every time Alfred almost tipped over.

"Okay! They're gone!" Peter shouted happily.

"First one there gets to play the melody!" Winona yelled. The two rushed out to the piano, but halfway there Winona tripped on the edge of the carpet and fell to the ground. Peter surged ahead and sat on the right side of the piano bench with gusto.

"No fair! You pushed me!" Winona cried.

"Did not!" Peter retorted, sticking out his tongue. Winona huffed.

"Whatever. You get the boring two-note part anyways." The two settled on the bench and began to play the music together, with as much sense of rhythm and tranquility that their tiny hands could muster.

* * *

"Those kids are pretty good for their age," Arthur noted aloud, peering down the stairs attempting to see the edge of the piano.

"Hey, _you're_ the one who said there was no time to waste. And incidentally, _I'm_ the one who is carrying the weight of a small meteoroid."

"Yes, yes, come on."

They walked into the bedroom to see their client lying on the bed, an IV drip and large heart monitor beside him. He had dark gray hair and a gray beard, with one strange curl that stuck out. Eliza stood at his side, grasping his unconscious hand. The doctor adjusted his glasses and took down a few notes on his clip board. His brows were furrowed deep with concern, and his nametag reading "Dr. Edelstein" that should've been pristine was crooked on his chest. He looked up to see Alfred and Arthur.

"He's unresponsive at this point, but from the looks of things, he's still hanging on. His breathing and heartrate, though slow, are stable. It's hard to say how long you have, but I would hurry."

"Let's look around a bit before we get into the meat of things. We can learn some important details about Feli from his room," Arthur reasoned. Alfred growled.

"Gee, y'know, I think I'd like to carry this excruciatingly heavy object around some more. Thanks for asking, though!" Arthur rolled his eyes and began to investigate the old man's room. He walked to a hallway with four paintings along the wall. The first was a painting of a lighthouse by the cliffside. The second was a woman holding some sort of strange yellow and blue object. The third an even stranger…animal, of sorts, if that's what it could be called. And the last was a casual picture of three people, one that could have resembled his client were he thirty years younger. Arthur noted a book that stuck out on the bookshelf; The Emperor's New Clothes, a children's book that seemed notably out of place in an old man's home. There was another clock as well, and this one too stayed silent and unticking.

"Are you satisfied now, Sherlock?" Alfred asked, whiny voice dripping with discontent.

"Just because this information doesn't mean much now doesn't mean it won't later," Arthur countered, walking back to Feliciano's bedside.

As the scientists began connecting wires and cables, Eliza looked with a bit of concern on her face.

"Are you sure common household power will be enough?" she asked. Alfred smirked.

"Don't worry, Miss Eliza! We're professionals!" But not a moment later, Alfred noticed something vitally wrong with the machine's power source. "…Oh, crap."

The lights of the house flickered once, twice, and then rapidly. Alfred swiftly manipulated a few of the keys and switches on the machine and the lights returned to normal.

"Heh, standard procedures. Just keepin' ya on your toes!" he lied, rubbing his neck. Arthur shook his head.

"How's he doing?" Arthur asked, distracting himself from Alfred's idiocy. Dr. Edelstein checked the heart monitor by Feliciano's bedside.

"Not so well. If I were to say, he's got just a day or two left," he admitted grimly.

"That's plenty of time," Arthur reassured.

". . . So you two can grant him any wish, yes?" Eliza asked, looking to the old man's struggling face.

". . . To try, at least," Arthur answered honestly. He didn't want to give her false hope.

"But we always succeed, because we're awesome," Alfred added, flashing a quick thumbs up. A tiny smile crept its way onto Eliza's face.

"So, what's the wish?" Arthur asked.

"The moon." Eliza replied.

"The moon?" Arthur repeated.

"The moon . . .he wants to go to the moon."

* * *

 **Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** And thus begins our tale! Each chapter will be named based off of a song in the soundtrack, so if you haven't checked it out yet you definitely should now. Also, while you're checking out the OST, the song that Winona and Peter play is called "For River (Sarah and Tommy's Version)." It's a very nice song that is important to the plot, so go listen to it while you're waiting for the next chapter!


	2. Bestest Detectives in the World

**Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** Welcome back to Moontalia! I slaved over what to name this story, and hopefully this name is okay. Does anyone think it's too lame?

I thought I'd clarify a few things here. These versions of Alfred and Arthur are a bit OOC compared to their Hetalia counterparts. These guys have witnessed a lot of deaths and a lot of unfulfilled lives, so they're a bit emotionally older. Not to say of course that the nations haven't had their fair share of wars, but I think emotional hardships would weigh on humans a little heavier, since their lives are comparatively far shorter.

Feliciano will also act a bit OOC. For now. A rather traumatic event happened in his life two years ago that changed him from being always optimistic and happy-go-lucky to more pessimistic and jaded. I bet you guys can figure out what it is.

* * *

Chapter 2: Bestest Detectives in the World

"The moon . . .he wants to go to the moon." Alfred and Arthur shared a confused look. Was that really his only dream? Using them, Feliciano could have any wish in the world granted. Money, fame, power. Why would he choose to go to the moon?

"The geezers just keep on gettin' crazier, huh?" Alfred shrugged, chalking up Feliciano's desire to dementia. It was easier for Alfred to think of if he thought he couldn't understand it.

"So, can you do it?" Eliza asked, ignoring Alfred's insensitive comment.

". . . It depends," Arthur answered carefully.

"He meant to say 'yes'," Alfred added, hoping to reassure the caretaker.

"Why don't you tell us about our client here?" Arthur suggested, knowing that acknowledging Alfred's idiocy would only make it worse.

"That. . . I don't really know much. Feli's a very kind man, but an odd one. Through the two years that I've worked here, he rarely spoke. He worked as an artist for most of his life, and his wife passed away two years ago. . . I don't really know many details," she admitted.

"I would've known more if I were his paperboy for Pete's sake," Alfred muttered passively while ordering the machine to run more calculations.

"Shush, just do your thing," Arthur commanded. He knew Alfred was bad at sensing the mood, but there was a limit to how much he could say before it got out of hand.

"Well . . . if you look around the house more, you may learn some new information. I suppose Feli wouldn't mind, since he signed for you two," Eliza suggested, hoping she could be of more help.

"Mm. . . So be it. Alright, which one of us plays detective?" Arthur asked, looking to his partner.

Alfred's eyes lit up. "You already played detective earlier. It's my turn now!" he exclaimed happily.

"Very well, then. Do try to take this seriously, yes?"

"Oh, please. When have I ever goofed off on a job? Don't answer that. Configure this thing while I'm gone, will ya?" Alfred pointed a thumb over his shoulder, referring to the lightly humming machine. Arthur nodded and pulled up a chair to get a better position.

"My children can show you around," Eliza offered. "They're probably downstairs at the piano." Alfred nodded and headed on his way.

* * *

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and sure enough, Peter and Winona sat on the piano bench. Alfred waved to them and walked over.

"What do you want?" Winona asked dismissively.

"Your mom wants you to show me around the house," Alfred answered, flashing a grin. They two stopped playing.

"Okay, maybe we will," Peter said, turning towards him with his arms crossed.

"Maybe?"

"Peter means we just need a little convincing is all," Winona supplemented. Peter nodded enthusiastically.

". . . Alright, let's talk. What do you punks want?"

"We want. . . one trillion dollars!" Peter exclaimed, pointing to Alfred's face. Alfred, in turn, held up his hands in surrender. These kids had high prices.

"Or the candy cane mum hides from us," Winona suggested.

"Yah, or that!" Peter agreed.

"Uh, what?" Alfred asked, eyebrows scrunching.

"There's a large candy cane on top of a high shelf that we can't reach. Mum put it there to save for when we do chores. Get it for us, and we'll give you a tour through the house!" Winona explained.

"What do you say?" Peter asked expectantly. Alfred sighed. He didn't have time to run errands for children.

"Plotting to eat stashed candy is a serious crime, y'know. I heard you can get six years for that," Alfred stated, trying to hide his amusement at the children's horrified faces.

"We're sorry! We didn't know!" she pleaded frantically.

"Uh huh. Well, if you show me around this place now, I'll keep my mouth shut," Alfred offered. They relaxed instantly.

"Really? You'd do that for us?" Winona asked, voice dripping with hope.

"Sure. I'm feeling nice today."

"Whew, thanks!" Peter exclaimed.

"Alright, where do we start?" Alfred asked, giving the main room another once-over. The kids jumped up from the piano bench and ran around to Alfred's side. Winona was a bit taller than Peter, standing at Alfred's stomach while her brother stood at Alfred's waist.

"I know! There's this funny room in the basement," Peter offered, pointing to another flight of stairs that led downwards.

". . . I don't like that funny room," Winona admitted, rubbing her arm.

"Er, what kind of 'funny room'?" Alfred asked, suddenly a little unsure of this kid-led tour.

". . . It's weiiirrd!" Peter scrunched up his face at the memory of the room.

"That sounds kinda fishy. Are you guys even allowed there?" Alfred questioned, crossing his arms and staring down at the kids. They shared a guilty grin.

"Nope! But you're keeping your mouth shut anyways, aren't you?" Winona asked, though she knew the answer. Alfred had to hand it to these kids: they were clever. Manipulative and scary, but clever nonetheless.

"Fine. Besides, if it's a funny room, then it'll probably tell me more about the old man. Lead the way." The two scampered to the basement, heads whipping behind to make sure Alfred was following closely enough. They descended further down the stairwell, and deeper into the darkness.

* * *

"This is the basement. We play hide and seek here." Winona explained.

"You should turn the light on before you trip on somethin'," Peter advised. Alfred found a light source and flicked it on. Peter surged ahead to the piles of knick-knacks in front of them, some priceless antiques and others worthless junk.

"Once we were down here and the lights were out, and Peter fell down those stairs. He chipped a tooth, but that's ok because he's ugly to begin with," Winona explained to Alfred. Peter was too far away to hear her.

"We used to find all kinds of cool junks here! Moldy books, moldy buckets, moldy cheese . . . You name it!" he exclaimed, pulling out a boot-shaped beer glass. Alfred sighed.

"You kids are crazy," he muttered to himself. He searched the basement with his eyes, finding all sorts of useless trinkets like Peter had mentioned. Then, he saw an old wooden door with an elaborate, eerie design on it in the darkest corner of the basement. He silently pointed to the ominous door, and the children silently nodded. Never one to fear danger (though he did fear ghosts), Alfred marched into the room and fumbled for a light source. His hand met a cord, and he yanked it before the room was washed with light. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes, but then what he saw next made him blink his eyes again, and even take off his glasses to clean them. Once he put them back on, however, he knew what he was seeing was real.

Hundreds of origami rabbits. Pink ones, green ones, white ones, all strewn about the room. Many were standing upright, but others had fallen over. It seemed like some of them were dumped in the room haphazardly, while others were placed with care. Did Feliciano have an obsession with paper folding? If so, why only rabbits? And why were they all kept in a special room?

Alfred looked at his feet and saw a strange stuffed animal. He picked up and decided it sort of resembled a platypus, though the toy was crudely made and very old and worn. He decided to take it with him, hoping that it might creep out Arthur if he brought it back to him. It truly was hideous.

* * *

"Did you see them?" Winona asked.

Alfred nodded slowly. ". . . What do you kids know about those rabbits?"

"Nothing! The old man didn't want anyone to go inside, so we never told him," Peter explained, picking up an old strainer.

"There're more of them, actually," Winona added. Alfred's eyes widened in interest.

"Where?" he asked.

"Inside the abandoned lighthouse! It's just beneath this cliff." While Winona wasn't a fan of the origami rabbits in their basement, she did enjoy the lighthouse.

"Wanna go see? I got the keys!" Peter exclaimed, holding up the items in question.

". . . Let me guess: You aren't supposed to go in there either." The two shared a mischievous snicker. Alfred sighed.

"Remind me to never keep any locked cabinets around you two."

"So, do you wanna go see the lighthouse or not?" Peter asked, impatiently tugging on Alfred's sleeve. Winona gave him her best puppy dog eyes.

"Well, Arthur's probably almost done by now, but. . . Oh to heck with it. It's in the name of the job! Besides, waiting 10 more minutes won't kill him. Come on, kids, let's go see that lighthouse!"

* * *

As the trio made their way to the lighthouse, they walked by the scene of the crash. Luckily, the Sig Corp van had stopped smoking, and the damage to the front looked repairable. Unluckily, the poor, misfortunate creature was starting to smell.

"Who's the dummy that crashed the car?" Peter asked, pointing interrogatively to the smashed van. Alfred rubbed his neck.

"That was, uh. . . Dr. Kirkland. Yeah. Oh, Dr. Kirkland, tsk tsk tsk!" Winona pointed to the squirrel lying in the road.

"And who ran over the poor squirrel?" she asked, feeling a bit saddened and disturbed.  
"Uh, that was also Dr. Kirkland. He's terrible." Alfred's lies were like pills: easily swallowed, and easily forgotten. The children accepted his answers without much thought, and Alfred considered it a victory in his book.

* * *

Inside Feliciano's bedroom, the only sounds that could be heard were the gentle clatter of keyboard keys, the hum that accompanied them, the faint but persistent heart monitor tones, and the rhythmic ocean waves.

"Dr. Kirkland, is it all right if I ask you a few questions?" Eliza asked, breaking the conversational silence. She was now seated by Feliciano's side. While she would never claim to have known him well, he was a very kind and loving man that she didn't want to see leave.

"Certainly, Miss Eliza. What would you like to know?" Arthur answered. The calibrations were almost set, and most of the remaining work was up to the machine. Eliza straightened out her skirt.

"Well, for one . . . what exactly is it that you and Dr. Jones do? Feli only told me that you can grant wishes, but he didn't explain how."

"Ah, yes." Arthur leaned back in his seat. "While the term 'granting wishes' sounds a bit grandiloquent, it is true in a sense. The employees at Sig Corp, myself and Dr. Jones included, use this machine to look at, and to an extent, interact with, the memories of our patient. We start with their most recent ones and work our way back in time."

"Oh, I see. But to what end? How does that grant his wish?" Eliza questioned, glancing unseeingly at a point behind Arthur's head. Though others may have taken the gesture as rude, Arthur knew that she was dealing with difficult times. He sympathetically gave her the answers she so craved.

"Dreams are powerful things, Miss Eliza. Sometimes, when a dream is powerful enough, it can drive a person to incredible lengths. So, what would happen if those dreams, those desires, were implemented earlier on in a person's life? If they spent their entire lives aspiring towards that one goal? If they had all the time in the world, and as many resources as possible at their fingertips? The possibilities are limitless."

"Wow." This time, Eliza glimpsed out the window, allowing his words to sink in.

"In short, that was the idea behind Sig Corp: allowing someone's passions to be followed to fruition. However, the process overrides a person's true memories, so the procedure is only done on their deathbed."

"Hence why you're here," Eliza supplied.

"Precisely."

"And you'll change Feli's memories so that even as a young boy he'll have wanted to go to the moon?" She turned her eyes downward to meet his tight eyelids. He was always squinting whenever she saw him walking around, but somehow that same action seemed woefully unfitting when he lied struggling on his bed.

"That is our aim, yes."

Just then, the machine gave out a satisfying tone, signaling that its configuration process was complete.

"Ah, excellent. Now we simply have to wait for Alfred." Arthur stood up and crossed the room, stretching out his arms in the process. It was going to be a long night, after all. Eliza followed him with her eyes, one more question still in them.

"If you don't mind me asking, you two seem rather close. Are you…?" her voice trailed off. Arthur halted in his tracks at her words and turned away to hide a blush forming at his cheeks.

"If you are insinuating that we are romantically involved, I must stop you there. Alfre—Dr. Jones and I are simply work partners and friends." Arthur coughed once into his closed fist.

"That's all, hm? Shame." Despite her words, Eliza smirked. Arthur hadn't told her they were straight, just that they weren't seeing each other currently. It gave her something to hope for.

* * *

Alfred, Peter, and Winona reached their destination. The lone lighthouse stood on the edge of a shallow cliff. The foot of the building nearly touched the ocean waves, and its head nearly grazed the moon. The lighthouse had clearly seen better days, and seemed very old and sad, but determined to continue living.

Alfred spotted a gravestone sticking up out of the ground at the foot of the lighthouse. He walked closer and read the words, "In memory of Louise B. Vargas."

"'Louise Vargas,' huh. Was she Feli's wife?" Alfred asked, suddenly feeling a little heavier. The children shrugged.

"Dunno," Winona responded dismissively.

"Come on, the lighthouse is right there!" Peter shouted, rushing to open the door. The trio trudged up many flights of stairs before reaching the top. Sure enough, more paper rabbits. This time, however, an unusual multi-colored rabbit stood peering out over the ocean. Alfred guessed it was made with two sheets of paper, one yellow and one blue. While the others seemed to be carbon copies of each other, this one was different. He grabbed the rabbit and tucked it into his breast pocket.

A jaunty jingle filled the air. Alfred looked in surprise towards his vibrating pocket.

"What the—someone's calling me." Alfred pulled out his phone and saw the caller ID. "Ack, I should've guessed." He answered the phone to hear Arthur's impatient scolding. "Yeah yeah, we're coming!" Alfred let his partner drone on for a few more seconds before hanging up mid-sentence.

"Blah blah blah. Am I right?" Alfred asked the children. They giggled in response.

"Alright, kids, let's head back."

* * *

"Where the huckleberry pie have you been?" Arthur asked accusingly. He had recently replaced all of his swear words with family-appropriate ones, due to the holes in his pockets that his swear jar had singed.

"Burning ants with a magnifying glass," Alfred answered, shrugging. Peter and Winona had stayed by the piano once they reached the house again.

"Using moonlight?" Arthur asked, raising one eyebrow.

Alfred groaned. ". . . Okay, I was taking a nap then! God, it's so hard to be a smartass nowadays," he complained.

Arthur smirked. "You're pretty good at being half of it." He caught Eliza's eye despite himself, and saw her smirking too, though for an entirely different reason. He coughed once into his closed fist.

"Your helmet's on the couch. Get it on, we're going in."

The two scientists strapped on their helmets and each took a deep breath. Eliza gave them two thumps up, much like Alfred had done earlier for her. He smiled back just before Arthur flipped the switch. The light and color in the room dimmed slowly into black, and then flashed swiftly into a blinding white. They plunged into Feliciano's memories.

* * *

 **Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** The scientists are too cute, amirite? Eliza's been employed as every shipper's favorite for her ability to get all kinds of guys together. Truly a gift from the heavens. Oh and in case anyone out there couldn't tell, Winona is Wy. She and Peter are both such little twerps. Which is why we love them.

Also, I have to apologize to anyone familiar with the game for making the introduction two parts. It's arguably the most boring part of the story and I dragged it out. Sorry guys! Hopefully the parts I added and Alfred and Arthur's quips were enough to keep things entertaining? If not, there is no need to fear. I'll update soon.


	3. Moonwisher

**Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** Hi, everyone! With any luck, the chapters should be written and uploaded every two/three weeks from now on. I'll make updates as often as I can.

We're finally starting to get into the meat of things! At long last, we meet Feli, though he's a bit heartbroken. Don't worry, though. The docs will have him fixed up soon enough. This chapter is more setup for the mystery, and more explanations of how Sig Corp employees do their jobs. With plenty of arguing Brits and Americans. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 3: Moonwisher

When their senses returned, Arthur and Alfred found themselves in Feliciano's room, upstairs. The room was fuzzy and faded, like an old photograph. The bed was neatly made, though lacking Feliciano. Eliza and Dr. Edelstein were also missing from the room, dismissing any doubts that the scientists had entered Feliciano's memories.

"This should be the last accessible memory. Disable speech for all except Feli," Arthur ordered, adjusting to the scenery. No matter how many times he jumped into the past, it still jostled him every time. Which he supposed was a good thing, since he didn't want to get used to it. Alfred slid back his lab coat sleeve and pressed a few buttons on his watch. A faint tone sounded above their heads, and Alfred flashed a thumbs up.

The scientists traversed downstairs hesitantly. The world they were in was entirely of Feliciano's memories. If he only remembered part of the stairs, they would fall down into darkness. Thankfully, all of the stairs were intact. As well as the entire front room, complete with its lush, comfortable furniture and silent grandfather clock. It seemed that the home was important to Feliciano since he could remember so much of it. Or perhaps it was simply because this memory was so recent.

The pair continued outside and noticed that the pathway towards the bottom of the cliff was missing, so they followed another path around to the back of the house. They finally found Feliciano, gazing over the cliff at the lighthouse below. Eliza sat on a wooden bench beside him, knitting a scarf.

"Feli?" Arthur asked, approaching the man in question. He turned around to see who had called his name before sporting a gentle smile. He stood up with great effort, his back and knees cracking in the process.

"What a pleasant surprise. . . We don't get many visitors around here," he said, coming closer to the two. His voice had a twinge of an Italian accent, though sounded mostly old and tired.

"My name is Dr. Arthur Kirkland, and this is-. . ."

"Evil Dr. Porkchop . . . _Mr._ Evil Dr. Porkchop," Alfred answered. A small noise of annoyance slipped through Arthur's mouth.

". . . Dr. Alfred Jones." Arthur paused long enough to cast a glare in Alfred's direction before continuing. "Are you familiar with the Sigmund Agency of Life Generation? Colloquially known as Sig Corp?"

"Oh, are you two from the agency? How convenient; I've just been thinking of calling you." Feliciano gave a small smile. His eyes always seemed to close whenever he smiled. "Eliza, could you go and grab us some tea please?"

Eliza didn't move or react in any way.

". . . Eliza?"

"Actually, you've already called us," Alfred explained. He lifted his sleeve, pressing a button on his watch. Eliza faded into thin air. "We're here to fulfill our contract from the relative future."

Feliciano, now terrified, began backing away from Arthur and Alfred.

"Careful there. If you slip off the cliff, we're gonna have to reload this memory," Alfred warned. Arthur deftly smacked his arm.

"Watch it, Alfred. Show some respect," he hissed. Alfred rubbed his arm where it was hit.

"Hey, it's just a program y'know," he whispered back.

"I know. But this is his last accessible memory, and we need its co-operation."

"Worst comes to worst, we can just reboot it," Alfred reasoned with a shrug.

"Why would you waste time like that?" Arthur glared at his partner.

"You . . ." came Feliciano's sudden voice. The two stopped their whispered banter and turned to face their client. "Are you here to take me to the moon?"

"Yes, Feliciano," Arthur answered, relieved that their patient had come to an understanding. The old man closed his eyes, deep in thought. He exhaled a heavy breath.

". . . I suppose I had a good run," he finally said.

"Not good enough, it seems," Alfred reminded. A small, humorless laugh escaped from Feliciano's mouth.

"So, can you do it? Can you take me to the moon?" he pleaded. His auburn eyes were jaded and ragged in the same way that Alfred's and Arthur's were. But with that question, they seemed suddenly saturated with hope.

"We can't, but you might be able to," Arthur answered. As always, he was careful to be honest to his clients.

"Why do you want to go there?" Alfred asked. Feliciano shook his head.

"I don't know."

"It's fine, you can tell us. It's essential for helping us get you there," Arthur explained, taking a step closer to assure the old man. Feliciano took no notice.

"Do you want the fame? The money? You've got to have a motive," Alfred reasoned. He too took a step towards Feliciano.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know." He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could, but quickly gave it up. He glanced behind him to the bright moon, on the verge of being full. Something about it pulled him to it, as if he was a lost sailor and the gently glowing stone was his homeland. "I just . . . do."

"I can already tell this is gonna be a pain in the ass," Alfred murmured. Arthur ignored him, though silently agreed with him.

"Nevertheless, Feli, here's what we will do . . . we need to get to your childhood, but it is too distant to do so in one memory hop. Thus, we will need to traverse through your memories with gradual backward leaps," Arthur explained.

"Which you've given us the permission to do in the relative future," Alfred added.

"Once we lay down the waypoints in your childhood memories for direct access, we will return here. That's when you'll need to help us influence the childhood you to become an astronaut," Arthur pressed.

"Or hop on a giant catapult," Alfred reasoned, with a bit of a silent chuckle.

". . . The point is, you'll need to have more to say than just 'I don't know'." Without knowing Feliciano's motive, it would be nearly impossible to find an effective way to get him to the moon. Luckily, they had some time. But would it be enough? Arthur could only hope it would be.

Feliciano shook his head slightly. All of the science terms and strange processes were starting to hurt his brain. "As long as you can take me to the moon, I will cooperate in any way I can."

"Good," Arthur nodded. "Now, in order to leap to a memory . . . we need an item that is of importance to you. Do you have a memento of some sort to get us started?"

Without missing a beat, Feliciano produced a blue and yellow paper rabbit. Alfred gasped.

"Arthur! That's the one I found at the lighthouse!" Sure enough, Alfred produced the same rabbit from his breast pocket, though the paper was paler. And, while it was the same object, it didn't carry the same weight. The one Alfred held was from the present, while the one Feliciano held was from his memories. Alfred's rabbit was one that Feliciano didn't have any connection to yet.

"That'll work," Arthur confirmed. He glanced at his partner. "Well? Shall we?"

"Ladies first," Alfred replied with as much elegance as he could muster. Arthur promptly jabbed him in the stomach. As Alfred clutched his wound, Arthur walked up to Feliciano's rabbit. He touched it gently to allow it to activate. The memento flashed brightly, and as the light faded, so too did the pair of scientists. As they disappeared, Feliciano stared after them pensively.

* * *

Alfred and Arthur appeared once again in Feliciano's home. This time, however, in place of the full and beautiful furniture were hundreds and hundreds of paper rabbits. The chairs and dining room table were gone. The fireplace was gone. The unticking grandfather clock was gone. The only thing that remained was the piano, where Feliciano sat now. He played the same song the children were playing earlier, but with more expertise and more weight. Laying on top of the piano was the crude creature that Alfred saw in the basement, the stuffed animal that semi-resembled a platypus. It stared at the piano player with hollow and sunken beady eyes.

"Turn off visibility and interactivity; it would be messy to be seen," Arthur ordered. Alfred sighed and tapped a few buttons on his wrist watch. The two scientists became transparent.

"You've got an earpiece. Why don't you turn off your own?"

"But your watch is much more efficient. Besides, you've already done it, have you not?"

"One of these days, Kirkland, I'll knock you off that high horse of yours." Arthur wanted to smack his partner, but their transparency made that task rather difficult. He settled for rolling his eyes. Alfred took a step forward into the room and drank in the unsettling scenery.

"Geez, I forgot to ask him about all these . . . rabbits," Alfred muttered. He took a deep breath and shuddered. "This is creeping me out. We probably should have checked his record for psychopathy first."

Suddenly, the piano notes halted. Alfred and Arthur turned in surprise to face Feliciano's back at the piano.

"What the—? Did he hear me?" Alfred asked slowly.

"That's impossible. It's probably just part of his memory," Arthur reasoned. Silence hung in the air around them.

A loud _BONG_ came. The pair jumped and saw that Feliciano had slammed his hands and head onto the keyboard. The _BONGS_ continued for a few more seconds before being replaced by quiet, quivering breaths. A single tear rolled down his cheek and plopped gently onto the piano.

". . . I stand by my point," Alfred added.

Arthur sighed. His partner's ability to sense the mood truly was atrocious. "Anyways, enough blabbering. Let's find a memento to jump from. Remember, we need five memory links before we can access the memento."

"What a pain. We accessed the first memory just fine, didn't we?"

"All of the memories beyond that point will be too faded to directly activate the memento. Come on, Alfred, you know this!"

"Yeah," Alfred admitted, "I just like to push your buttons."

"I'll push you off the cliff once we can access it again!" Arthur threatened. Alfred laughed, and the two set off to exploring the room.

In the corner, they found the yellow-and-blue rabbit from earlier. The scientists heard the tell-tale sound of a memory link activating. One down, four to go. However, as opposed to searching for the next ones right away, Alfred glared at the paper rabbit and crossed his arms.

"Well, aren't you special? Having two colors while the rest of your siblings look like they drowned in bleach." Alfred paused a moment, pretending to be listening intently to a faint voice. "What's that? You think you're really creepy? Hey, I completely agree!" Arthur decided to abandon his partner's childish horseplay and went upstairs.

The area had a few more furnishings, complete with Feliciano's bed, a vase of flowers, a bookshelf, and the three paintings that Arthur saw in the present, though they were faded and gray. He also noted a jar on Feliciano's bedside table. As Arthur approached the bookshelf, another version of Feliciano appeared in the room. Seeing as how it was simply a dream world, it was possible for him (and others, for that matter) to be in two places at once.

Alfred lumbered up the stairs and found Arthur examining a book on the shelf. Even from far away, he could tell it was _The Emperor's New Clothes_ by Hans Christian Andersen. He walked forward to interact with the Feliciano in the bedroom.

"Don't," Arthur barked. "If we had to explain our presence to him at every memory, I'd go crazy."

"Don't tempt me," Alfred retorted, though he backed away. Arthur returned the book to its rightful place on the shelf and the pair examined the jar. It was filled with pickled olives.

"Peh, I hate this stuff," Alfred whined.

"What's to hate? It's pickled olive!" Arthur replied.

". . . Exactly."

Arthur chuckled slightly. The two returned downstairs to find an old, blue umbrella where the fireplace should've been if the house's furniture still intact. The moment Arthur's fingers made contact with it, a bright sphere appeared around it.

"Looks like the memento," Arthur commented. Alfred nodded and held up his hands to allow the memory links stored in his watch to flow to the memento.

"HADOOUUUKEN!" Alfred shouted as the memory links flew into the umbrella.

"What the floundering fish sticks was that!?" Arthur cried, exasperated.

Alfred blinked owlishly. "What?"

Arthur sighed. "That's it. I'm doing the rest of the mementos from now on." Alfred grinned sheepishly. Arthur activated the blue umbrella, and the old photograph of a house faded slowly from their view as they traversed deeper into Feliciano's memories.

* * *

 **Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** I gotta say, guys, I absolutely love this story. It's incredibly dear to my heart. The song this chapter is named after, Moonwisher, is my second favorite in the whole soundtrack. And I wrote lyrics for it. (God I'm such a trashy nerd.) I figure I may as well put them here so you guys have something to read while waiting for my next update. You're welcome to use these lyrics if you want, as long as you credit me and send me a link. ;) (Mild spoiler warning).

Moonwisher by Kan Gao, Lyrics by Rainbow Volcano

 _In the night_

 _Stars are bright_

 _Like your eyes high in the sky_

 _In the night_

 _I will be there_

 _In the place that we had danced_

 _Oh, my love_

 _I'm wishing on the moon_

 _._

 _Late at night_

 _I'll stay right_

 _By her side only for you_

 _Late at night_

 _Though I'll shed so_

 _Many sad tears_

 _They're for you_

 _All for you..._

 _I'm wishing on the moon_


	4. For Louise

**Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** Hello, everyone! Finally the story is starting to pick up some steam! I really love how tender this chapter is, as well as all the ship-worthy moments that go on here. Oh, and this time we actually get to meet Louise! She's a bit of an odd duck, but I tried to make her as much like Germany as I could, while still keeping her an old lady. She'll get more and more like the tough, no-nonsense Germany we all love as we go back in time.

I tried to post this chapter as soon as I could because I think it really starts to capture what the series is about. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 4: For Louise

When the world reappeared, the two scientists found themselves outside of the lighthouse, near Louise's grave. Feliciano knelt by the tombstone, holding the blue umbrella from his previous memory. A gentle rain fell through the still-transparent scientists.

"Seems like these memory hops only span a short period of time," Arthur murmured thoughtfully. "We need to find a leaping memento, or it's going to take forever."

"Meh, just enjoy the scenery," Alfred replied with a shrug. The two set off in search of memory links.

Arthur correctly guessed the tombstone to be one and, much to Alfred's dismay, so too was the stuffed platypus at Feliciano's side.

"Honestly, I just don't think this animal has the right to exist," Alfred stated aloud. Arthur made a noise of agreement.

"The world's not big enough for two of you," he elaborated. Alfred's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

The two tried to leave through the pathway towards the house, but it was non-existent in this memory. Having nowhere else to go, they headed towards the lighthouse, Alfred leading the way. But just before Arthur could step in after him, he heard Feliciano speak.

"It's finished, Louise." Arthur halted in his tracks and faced the old man.

"Like you, I'll be able to watch over her every day . . . she won't be alone anymore." He glanced up at the lighthouse, an odd mixture of determination and sadness in his eyes. "I don't think I'll ever understand why, but I stayed true to your wish. I'm sure Anya is grateful to you, too." Feliciano then looked over the horizon, at a distant point beyond his vision.

"But when I'm gone . . . who is going to watch over us?"

Arthur wasn't quite sure what possessed him, but he tapped his earpiece to regain visibility. He slowly walked over to Feliciano.

"Who are you?" the old man asked. Arthur offered a gentle smile.

"My name is Arthur. I was just passing by." He gestured to the gravestone. "Was she your wife?"

"Yes. Her name was Louise."

"That's a lovely name," Arthur replied calmly. Feliciano was silent for a moment, perhaps in agreement with Arthur's statement or perhaps lost in thought.

"It didn't need to happen," he said finally.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She. . . she didn't need to do it. But she. . . " Feliciano shook his head. "You wouldn't understand. I don't even understand." The old man closed his eyes and turned away from Arthur. He began to shake, and Arthur was certain it wasn't from the cold when he heard a strained sob. Arthur backed away gently and returned his own transparency with a few taps on his earpiece. He glanced behind him once before entering the lighthouse.

* * *

As Arthur trudged up the stairs of the lighthouse, he wondered about Anya's identity. Was she their daughter, perhaps? But then why hadn't he heard about her in the present? Whoever she was, she was someone Feli and Louise once cared for.

He reached the top and found Alfred inspecting the lighthouse bulb.

"About time you got here. I almost thought you fell off the cliff!" Alfred exclaimed. He turned his head slightly to look at his partner. "What were you doing?"

"Enjoying the scenery, what else?" Arthur replied with a half-smile. "Any luck?"

"Well, I found that dumb platypus again. Guess what? It's the memento. We've got one memory link left and it's gotta be somewhere in this bulb," Alfred explained. Arthur stepped closer to inspect the light, squeezing between the big bulb and Alfred's body.

Alfred's heart skipped a beat, but only one. He had seen too much, and been friends with Arthur too long to get excited every time their bodies grazed. Though every once in a while, he was reminded of how beautiful his work partner truly was. Those tiny moments between them were one of his favorite things about his job.

Suddenly, the light flashed and another Feliciano appeared in the room. He regarded the stuffed platypus idly before sitting on the ground. He turned his gaze out to the sea, stayed still for a few moments, and then faded away. The unmistakable tone of a memory link sounded. Without giving Alfred time to react, Arthur scurried over to the platypus and infused it with the memory links. The memento shined brightly as the rest of the world faded into the next memory.

* * *

The scientists found themselves in a quaint bedroom, smaller than the one in Feliciano's home. A piano sat across from the bed, as well as other basic bedroom decorations such as bookshelves, paintings, and a vase of flowers. The room was littered with paper rabbits, and an old woman occupied the bed with the infamous stuffed platypus by her side. Feliciano stood next to her, with a pained expression on his face.

"Just enough," he stated. The old woman, whom Alfred and Arthur correctly assumed to be Louise, looked straight to the far wall, not sparing a glance at her husband. Her hair was in a low bun, and was completely coated in gray. Her ice blue eyes pierced through the far wall.

"After we pay for your operation, we'll have just enough left for it . . . So don't you worry," Feliciano reassured. Though Alfred couldn't tell, Arthur noticed that Feliciano's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Louise seemed to have noticed too.

". . . White lie. That's what you call it, right?" She spoke with a subtle German accent, but it was diminished in the same way that Feli's was: old and tired. Though, this time, Alfred and Arthur did notice a considerable difference in Feliciano's words. They seemed more animated, more alive. Perhaps that was due to his younger age, or perhaps it was somehow related to his beloved wife.

"No, I'm sure we can jus- "

"Stop it. . . I don't like it when you lie," Louise cut in. "I calculated our finances; I know what it's like. Why do you try to convince me against my will?"

"We need the money for your medical bills, Louise!" Feliciano shouted. It was the first time Alfred and Arthur heard him raise his voice, and it startled them. Louise simply closed her eyes and tightened her fists.

"I know that Anya means a lot to you, but this . . . This is just too much," he concluded, tears beginning to form in his eyes. "It's not like she . . . she isn't even—"

"Do you know what makes me happy, Feli?" Louise asked, cutting off her husband midsentence. He released a hesitant sigh.

". . . What?"

"Do you? Well, I do. I just . . . hope you can help me with it," she admitted, finally looking him in the eye. At her gaze, he visibly relaxed.

"Louise. . . " Feli murmured. On that time saying her name, he over-pronounced the last syllable, making it sound like "Louisa."

"When the papers for my treatment get here, I will not sign them," Louise explained firmly. "What you do with our money is up to you, but if you would grant my wish, I want you to use it to finish building that house . . . and then, for every day that you live there, I want you to watch over her." Louise paused for a moment in thought, and looked almost ready to reach for Feliciano's hand. But she did not move, and continued her orders. "Visit her. Speak to her. Comfort her. . . I don't want her to be alone anymore."

"But what about you?" Feliciano asked. He placed his hand gently atop hers. She pondered for a moment at his question, and decided to give it her own meaning.

". . .Happy. I'll be happy." Feliciano allowed a tear to escape his eye, but he quickly rubbed it away.

"Feli?" Louise asked. He lowered his arm and looked to her.

"Yes?"

"I made this." She handed him a blue and yellow rabbit. Alfred's eyes widened with recognition.

"Tell me what it is," Louise ordered.

"What?"

"Just tell me what it is." Feliciano turned it over in his hands a few times, attempting to deem meaning from it.

"It's a rabbit, like all the other ones you made," he offered.

"What else?" Louise prompted.

"Um, it's made of paper?" Feliciano attempted.

"What else?" she prompted again.

"Its body is yellow, and the rest is blue."

"What else?"

"Look, Louisa—" Feliciano tossed the rabbit to the ground, not understanding what she wanted it to mean to him. "I wrote a song. It's for you."

"Okay," she answered with a bit of curiosity.

"Would you like to hear it?"

"Yes." At her request, Feliciano began walking to the piano in the room. "You didn't have to bring the piano in here just for this. I can hear you just fine with the door open," Louise admitted. Feliciano paused and shut his eyes. After a moment, he closed the distance to the instrument and took a seat at the bench.

"It's called . . . 'For Louise'." She titled her head to the side.

"Why so cliché?" she asked in curiosity and partial amusement.

"It's . . . just a placeholder," he explained. He began to play. The notes filled the room as Louise closed her eyes and listened to the melodic, soothing sounds.

"Who is this 'Anya' they were talking about? If she's so important, shouldn't we have seen her in his late memories?" Arthur asked, posing the question to Alfred in order to get his opinion on the matter. But Alfred didn't have any more of an answer than Arthur did.

"I guess he didn't keep that promise after all," Alfred mused sadly.

"Unless . . . " Arthur began.

"Unless what?"

"Never mind. That's the same song the kids were playing earlier, isn't it?" Arthur asked rhetorically. Alfred listened a moment before coming to the same conclusion.

"I guess he taught them," Alfred said. He looked around the room, lingering on Louise and Feliciano. "Y'know what, I'm too manly for this. Let me know when you get all the links." And with that, Alfred walked out of the room to the small hallway. Arthur stayed a few moments more to find three memory links, and two other items of note: a copy of _The Emperor's New Clothes_ like the one in Feliciano's present-day bedroom, and the memento—a vase of flowers.

Having combed the room, Arthur left to head downstairs. He passed Alfred on his way, Arthur's lower thigh grazing Alfred's knee. His heart skipped a beat, though just one. He had seen too much and known Alfred too long to get giddy over him. Though it was small moments like this that embarrassed him. He coughed once into his closed fist.

Arthur stepped off the last stair to see Feliciano and another man struggling to move the piano.

"Ay caramba, there is just no way," the other man said, defeated. Feliciano seemed unwilling to give up.

"Oh, please, Antonio! What if we took it apart?"

"Look at us, Feli. We aren't exactly at the ripe age of piano moving." Antonio had a distinct Spanish accent, though it seemed subdued much like Feliciano's and Louise's were. "You know what? If it means that much to you, I'll pay for the professionals to do this. I can't save that house for you, so this is the least I can do." Antonio placed a comforting hand on Feliciano's shoulder. The memory link tone sounded.

Arthur found a jar of pickled olives on the counter, and as he touched them, the memory link tone sounded again. He supposed that Feliciano must've really liked those things for them to be his memory links in two memories.

Arthur trudged back upstairs and nearly slipped on something. Before he could fall and damage himself, however, Alfred grabbed his arm swiftly. He pulled the shorter scientist up to even ground carefully.

"Watch it, Arthur! You almost broke your face!" Alfred exclaimed, voice laced with concern. Arthur couldn't help feeling a bit embarrassed.

"What did I even trip on? I don't remember anything being there earlier . . ." Arthur's voice trailed as he saw that he had stepped and slipped on a paper rabbit. "Brilliant," he murmured.

"Those things are everywhere. I wonder if Louise made all of the ones in his present-day home?" Alfred wondered aloud.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Arthur answered simply.

"And while we're on the subject of Louise, why does Feli sometimes call her Louisa? He can pronounce it the way it's supposed to be, so there's no real reason for him to do it, right?" Alfred asked.

"Honestly, Alfred, I don't see why it's important. Maybe 'Louise' is just short for 'Louisa.' Now come along, we've got plenty more memories ahead of us." Reluctantly, Alfred accepted his answer. The two walked back into the bedroom where Feliciano was still playing his song for Louise. Arthur activated the vase and infused it with the memory links. The memento flashed, and the world around them disappeared as they plunged deeper into Feliciano's memories.

* * *

 **Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** And that's all for this week. But I've started chapter 5 and guess who makes an appearance? Kiku! Everyone's favorite third-wheel.

If anyone's wondering about the Louise/Louisa thing:

1\. Her real name is indeed Louise

2\. Feli is the only one who calls her Louisa, and he calls her by her real name whenever he's trying to be serious. Which isn't very often!

3\. The reason why he doesn't call her Louise will be revealed, and boy is it adorable.


	5. Having Lived

**Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** Hey, everyone! Welcome back to Moontalia!

This chapter is super long, but not quite long enough to split into two. So I decided rather than squishing it or stretching it out, I'd just leave it the way it was and hope you guys didn't mind to much. And also due to its length, there is a whole wide range of feels coming from this chapter. And since it's been awhile since my last update, I tried to toss in little reminders so you could remember what was going on in the story. Enjoy!

* * *

The scientists found themselves once again on the cliff behind Feliciano's house, overlooking the lighthouse below. The sounds of his piano notes still played in the background. With no one around, the pair headed southwards.

They came across Feliciano's house, but this time, incomplete and under construction. Many wooden panels and pillars were built, but that was all. It was clear that the house was nowhere near complete. It was barely a wooden frame.

"Well, look what we have here," Arthur remarked, gesturing towards an unpainted wall.

"I bet they saw this cliff, and then thought it was not dangerous enough without people living on it," Alfred quipped. Arthur suppressed a small chuckle.

The piano notes faded away to be replaced with the crashing ocean waves. The pair made their way to the front of the house and found Feliciano resting against the wall. He looked exhausted, as though he had recently done some work on his home. He panted heavily, and as his breaths evened, he clutched at his forehead in frustration.

A blurry man approached from the south of Feli's half-built house. He had a calm and patient disposition, though treaded towards Feliciano with weighted steps. He had a tidy haircut where parts of the obsidian black hue had been scraped down to gray.

"Antonio asked that I come see you. Did you attempt to complete the house on your own?" the calm man asked. Feliciano looked up and allowed his face to soften.

"Kiku! It's been too long! Let me give you a hug!" Feliciano exclaimed, standing up with a bit of trouble. He finally reached Kiku and they embraced, holding onto each other for dear life.

"I brought you some fresh tomatoes and potatoes from our garden. And pickled olives, of course," Kiku offered, his accent muffling the l's and r's in his words. He brought out a basket filled with produce, which Feliciano accepted gratefully. They sat down together on the ground, and leaned their old backs against the wall. They began to chat about trivial things unrelated to Alfred and Arthur's goal.

"They sure are friendly," Alfred noted, "Why wasn't Kiku in any of his later memories? If they're this close, shouldn't he have been there for Feli after Louise died?" Arthur couldn't help but wonder himself. But before he could reply, Kiku said something that caught their attention.

". . . I heard about Louise. Will she pull through?" Feliciano stopped, looked to Kiku, and then looked down again as he exhaled a breath.

"Her illness was just diagnosed in its late stage. Fortunately, it's treatable. But the medical bills . . . " Feliciano took a deep breath. "We can't afford to finish building the house. We can barely afford to pay for her treatment. I'm relieved that she'll be okay, but. . . you know how much this place means to her. She's going to be heartbroken!" Feliciano burst into tears, and Kiku offered an awkward though earnest shoulder. It was strange for the scientists to see their patient being openly emotional. In his later memories, he had seemed so closed off.

"If I could help, you know I would. But things have been difficult since the stock market crashed," Kiku comforted. Feliciano calmed down and sat up straight again.

"I have to tell her that we can afford everything. I know if I didn't, she would do something crazy," Feliciano stated. He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

"You shouldn't lie to her," Kiku noted carefully. Feliciano shook his head.

"No, if I told her, I don't know which one she would choose."

"If she wants to not save herself for the sake of this place, she should be free to choose so," Kiku pushed. Alfred and Arthur could tell that was unusual for the man by the way Feliciano reacted. He began to think hard.

"I know, Kiku, I know. But . . . if she dies, then what am I supposed to do? I spent my whole life relying on her to be there for me. I don't want to be alone!" Feliciano began crying again, and the sight was almost too much for anyone watching to bear. Feliciano sunk his head into Kiku's chest and gripped at his shirt. His sobs were loud and ugly and desperate. Kiku swallowed hard and tried to think of a way to calm down his friend.

"You could pick some flowers from the cliffside for Louise. It might bring her some comfort," Kiku suggested, awkwardly patting Feliciano's head. The Italian man lifted his head slowly and looked into his friend's eyes.

"That's a good idea. I'll go and put some in a vase to put in that dreary room. It should help cheer her up," Feliciano reasoned, standing with a bit of effort.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have this for you too," Kiku said, standing up as well. He reached into the bottom of the basket and pulled out a small, hand-carved wooden box.

"A music box? For me?" Feliciano asked, eyes lighting up. He accepted the gift with two eager hands and opened the lid. A soft melody filled the air.

"It's called, 'Everything's Alright,'" Kiku explained. Suddenly, the smile fell from Feliciano's lips.

". . . But it isn't. And for the first time in my life . . . I don't know if it will be," Feliciano murmured. He walked off to the side of the house to find some flowers, and Kiku followed behind.

For once, Alfred seemed to understand the mood. He didn't speak a word as the pair searched for the memory links, and found the memento in the jar of pickled olives that Kiku brought. Arthur silently charged the memento with the links and activated it. The world flashed brightly, in contrast to the sullen mood that had woven its way around them.

* * *

This time, Alfred and Arthur found themselves in a quaint restauraunt area with a warm and comforting atmosphere. It immediately put them at ease. They spotted Feliciano sitting at a table with Louise, Kiku, and Antonio. The gray hair that plagued them in Feliciano's later memories was now nearly non-existent. Feliciano's tablemates' degrees of clarity ranged from the perfectly solid Louise and mostly solid Kiku to the mostly fuzzy Antonio. A dark, human-esque figure manned the bar, and a few other shadowed people filled the tables. A plate of pickled olives sat in the middle of Feliciano's table, perhaps as an appetizer. Alfred and Arthur took an unoccupied table next to the group of four.

"So, you guys are really going for it, then?" Antonio asked. Feliciano glanced happily to his wife and she offered a microscopic smile in return.

"Yep! The construction's starting in just a few months. It's a bit of a squeeze and we had to split the payment. But with Louisa's financing, everything should be okie dokie!"Feliciano chirped. It was refreshing to see him so excited and optimistic.

"How wonderful, having your dream house built at such a beautiful site," Kiku commented.

"I can remember when you had your wedding at that lighthouse near there all those years ago," Antonio noted, sighing with nostalgia.

"That's not all that's special about it," Feliciano added, "We have a long history with that place. Don't we, Louisa?" he looked to his wife again, and this time she gave him a full smile. His smile, in return, grew ten times in size.

"Well, it's good to have some good news at a get-together for once! Cheers and congratulations, Louise and Feli!" Antonio exclaimed.

"Cheers!" The table cried, bringing their glasses together.

"I wish to get some fresh air. I will return shortly," Kiku said calmly. Louise stood up too.

"I'll be out for a bit too," she said. The two left through a door that Feliciano didn't remember.

"Hey, Feli, it's sure been a while," Antonio started. Feliciano chuckled.

"It has! Who knew how hard it would be to get across a few cities nowadays," he commented. A beat of silence passed between them.

"That Louise, she is still so quiet and stern, huh?" Antonio asked.

"Actually she's been really talkative at home, and with Kiku of course. I guess she's just not used to you," Feliciano admitted.

"So I'm the bad guy here, huh?" Antonio asked, laughing heartily. As he calmed, his brows furrowed. "I don't mean to ruin the occasion, but . . . did you tell Louise about that thing from back then?"

Feli furrowed his eyebrows, too, but in confusion. Suddenly he seemed to pick up on what Antonio was trying to say. "I did."

"So how did she take it?" Antonio asked. Feliciano fell silent.

"What are they talking about? The news of Louise's illness?" Alfred questioned to his partner.

"Don't be daft. Louise hasn't gotten sick yet, remember? We're further in the past, not the future," Arthur replied.

"Oh yeah. This would be easier to keep track of if everyone weren't so vague! Stupid backwards storytelling," Alfred whined.

"Although, this way it does offer higher replay-ability, don't you think?" Arthur asked. Alfred's jaw dropped, stunned.

"Did you just compare our jobs to a video game?"

"Well, I—" Arthur sputtered.  
"Dude! I can't believe it! Should I be checking for flying pigs now too?"

"Oh, shut your bloody trap!" Immediately afterwards, Arthur gasped. Realization slowly dawned on Alfred.

". . . Does that count as a swear word?" Alfred asked slyly, an evil grin spreading on his cheeks.

"No it does NOT! Just do your flipping job!"

Feliciano piped up again, ready to answer Antonio's question. The bickering scientists halted and poured their interest back into Feliciano.

"She took it way better than I expected, but ever since I told her, she's been making these weird bunnies out of paper."

"Origami rabbits?" Antonio asked. Feliciano nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes. Tons of them! Hundreds and hundreds!"

"What's wrong with that? I used to make them for my nieces and nephews all the time," Antonio reasoned. Feliciano shook his head vigorously.

"No, it's not the same thing! She's just been making rabbits, day in and day out! I mean, they're really neat and fancy, and probably the best paper rabbits in the whole world, but she's filled up our teeny house with them!"

Antonio placed a hand to his chin in thought. "Didn't Kiku say things like that might just be a symptom of her condition? You know, like a coping mechanism?"

"Yes, but something doesn't feel right this time. Whenever I ask her about it, she doesn't answer. She just gets this distant look in her eye, like she wants me to do something. And it's _really_ weird because I feel like I owe her something. But I don't know what!" Feliciano deflated onto the table. If Antonio hadn't known him for so long, he would've found the display very amusing. And, if he were honest, he found it a little amusing even now.

"Have you asked Kiku? He _is_ a psychologist, after all," Antonio offered.

"Of course! I went to him first! He said he couldn't get anything from her either. Louisa, why can't you just talk to me?" Feliciano cried.

Antonio offered him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Cheer up, mi amigo. I'm sure it will be fine. I've known you since middle school and you have never been one to overthink things, so why start now?"

"I guess you're right. At least when we built the house, we'll have plenty of time to talk to each other in our new home!" Feliciano chirped. Arthur felt a brick pummel his stomach at his words. If only Feliciano knew.

"Wait, so even Feli didn't know what was up with those rabbits? Great," Alfred grumbled. Arthur found himself disappointed, once again, at Alfred's lack of understanding for human emotions. But as he looked around the bar, he saw an even bigger issue.

"Forget about the rabbits, we've got a bigger problem. It's a confined memory and there are no mementos anywhere," Arthur warned.

"Don't worry, we can probably draw one out of him," Alfred explained.

"How?" Arthur deadpanned.

"Watch and learn, _Artie-boy_." Alfred leapt from their table and ran over to the shadowy bartender. He had to escape before Arthur punched him. Alfred knew how much his partner abhorred nicknames.

"Howdy, bartender! Could I get an order of pickled olives, please?"

"Sure. Cash or credit?"

"Check," Alfred answered, whipping out a company-supplied checkbook specifically for making transactions within memories.

"Er . . . I'm sorry, we don't take checks," the bartender said.

Alfred slowly pocketed his book. So much for Sig Corp's tools. "Oh . . . Just put it on my tab then."

"Wait, does that mean you don't have any money?" the bartender interrogated. Alfred rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

" . . . You're so getting resetted." He pressed a few buttons on his watch, and a white color washed over the bartender, as if he had been wiped clean.

"Hey there! Can I get you anything?" the bartender asked, his previous conversation completely forgotten.

"Good day. Could I trouble you for an order of pickled olives, please?"

"Sure. Cash or credit?"

"Just put it on my tab. I feel like spending BIG today," Alfred replied, leaning casually along the bar. This time, the bartender was more than eager to oblige.

"Oh, thank you, sir! Here're your pickled olives." The bartender graciously offered them to Alfred.

"Thanks, bro! You'll be getting an enormous amount of tips today!" He flashed a thumbs-up before walking away with his plate of pickles.

 _"You're such an ass-myptote, Alfred,"_ Arthur hissed. Alfred grinned and rubbed his neck sheepishly. He walked over to Feliciano.

"Why, is that a plate of pickled olives that you're sporting?

"Yup! Are you a fellow olive lover?" Feliciano asked curiously.

"Indeed I am! Just got a fresh bottle of them myself, in fact! Mind if I join you?"

"Sure, why don't you grab a seat? We can down a plate together!"

"Oh, uh . . . sounds swell." Alfred suddenly realized a major flaw in his amazing plan: he would have to actually eat the pickled olives. Normally, Alfred would eat almost anything. But with foods he hated, he refused to taste them again. And he really hated pickled olives.

 _"_ _Arthur!"_ he barked to his partner _"Disable taste simulation_ _ **NOW**_ _!"_

 _"_ _Oh, golly, Alfred, I just don't think I feel like it,"_ Arthur replied, resting his chin on his hand in amusement.

 _"_ _You ass! Please? PLEASE!"_ Alfred cried.

 _"_ _Sorry,"_ Arthur paused for dramatic effect, _"Alfie-boy."_

* * *

"And that was our very first pinky swear!"

"Ah-. . . ack. . . ahh. . . " Alfred sputtered. He had tried to swallow without chewing to minimize the flavor, but he ended up nearly choking on the olive, thus increasing its time in his mouth.

"Hey, are you okay?" Feliciano asked, concern lacing his words.

"Yeah. . . I'm just. . . savoring the amazingness of pickled olives," Alfred affirmed, producing a shaky thumbs-up.

"They're wonderful, aren't they?" Feliciano asked rhetorically.

"Yeah, I just can't understand how anyone could . . . ugh . . . find such things to be disgusting." Alfred continually had to suppress his gag reflex. And without a drink to wash it down, his mouth and throat were excruciatingly sore.

"Take your time. We've got two more plates coming!"

As their conversation progressed, Alfred slowly gained the required memory links. Luckily for him, Feliciano was quite the chatterbox, so Alfred was able to use Feliciano's words as an excuse to not eat the olives. Unluckily for him, Feliciano's chatter prolonged the time Alfred had to sit with the corrosive pang of pickled olives in his mouth.

"Actually I have it with me! Want to see it?" Feliciano chirped.

"Yes, that would be great," Alfred affirmed with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Feliciano brought some sort of legal document. If Alfred had been paying better attention, he'd have known what it was. But the important thing was not the words on the paper, but rather the fact that it was a memento.

"Annnd . . . freeze!" he yelled, pressing a button on his watch. The people and shadowed figures alike stopped moving in a flash of light. "Finally! Thank God!"

"How were the olives, Alfred?" Arthur asked, coming up beside him. Alfred glared at his partner.

"Shut up. You're too mean to me, sadist," Alfred pouted.

"I admit I almost felt bad for you," Arthur said, hoping to mollify his partner.

"Really?" he asked, perking up a little.

"Almost," Arthur clarified.

"Oh." And with that Alfred sunk back into the table, body and spirit drained by pickle olives and prickly partners. Arthur sighed, resigning to the knowledge that he'd have to perk up Alfred again before they could continue.

"It was wrong of me to force you to taste all those olives. I know you're usually not a picky eater, so I was a bit curious, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry. I should've respected your boundaries more," Arthur admitted. Alfred sat up straight in his seat, shocked by Arthur's words. Alfred looked to his partner, who coughed once into his closed fist and cast his eyes to the ground. Alfred couldn't help a small smile.

"Heh, thanks. It's pretty rare to get an apology from you," Alfred admitted. "Okay, let's activate this puppy and get the heck out of here!" Alfred was about to infuse the memento with the memory links, but Arthur stopped him.

"Wait, don't you dare—"

"Don't worry, sheesh, I'll do it by the books," Alfred affirmed. Not a moment later, he cried, "HULK SMAAAAASH!" as the sphere around the memento shattered.

"Alfred, seriously, we almost had a nice moment," Arthur sighed. Alfred, in return, grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

". . . Totally worth it."

Despite Arthur's earlier words, the moment between them had still been nice. Just in a different way. And they were finally getting into happier times in Feliciano's life. Things were looking up as they went deeper into Feliciano's past.

* * *

 **Rainbow's Thought Volcano:** Both of these scenes were warped considerably from their To the Moon counterparts, but I feel this way it better matches the characters. Speaking of characters, I recently realized that Francis won't be able to make an appearance anywhere and I'm am very downtrodden. It hurts, guys. Oh, Francis! My one and only love, forgive me for giving your spot in the story to Antonio! He was better suited to the mystery, and to the plot twist!

Meh, I'll probably find somewhere for him. He's just too plot-convenient to any romance to leave out. And if he's not in Feliciano's past, you can bet there'll be a place for him at Sig Corp so he can play matchmaker to Alfred and Arthur.


End file.
